By Chris Lane
By Jeff Balke
By Aaron Reiss
By Angelica Leicht
By Dianna Wray
By Aaron Reiss
By Camilo Smith
By Craig Malisow
Holt noticed an abandoned backpack on the street near the downtown Foley's while returning from lunch May 20. It was still there when he took a smoke break a couple of hours later.
As vigilant and proactive a patriotic citizen as Homeland Security could wish for, the graphic designer called 911. And got hung up on three different times, he says, because he couldn't provide an exact address for the backpack.
So he crossed the street to HPD headquarters. And no one in that lobby seemed too interested in it, either. So -- faced with taking off his shoes and belt to get through the metal detector -- Holt said "fuck it" and left.
He admits he may have tossed in some other profanity, but he was frustrated. Which turned to "pissed off" when an officer came flying out the door, grabbed him on the street and arrested him.
And, well, it didn't help when Holt would answer questions like "Are you drunk?" with "Oh, yeah, I've had 30 beers since lunch." ("I did kind of cuss and berate them after they arrested me," he admits. "I probably called them 'idiots' too.")
That clever post-arrest strategy resulted in Holt's spending 28 hours in jail -- a friend trying to bail him out was told the jail had no record of Holt -- and that was only the beginning.
Since then he's been run through a gauntlet of prosecutors and has faced the prospect of being charged with everything from assaulting a police officer to resisting arrest. Finally, on September 14, he worked out a plea bargain.
He pleaded guilty to cussing in public and was fined $2.
Fined for cussing? And only two bucks? That sounds like something a Disney World employee would get hit with, not a regular ol' citizen.
The class C misdemeanor involves "vulgar and profane language that causes an immediate breach of the peace," says Holt's attorney George Reul.
Prosecutor Todd Leffler says he took into account the fact that Holt was, after all, trying to report something suspicious. "We understand why he was frustrated and cut him a break," he says.
As for Holt, "The next time I see a backpack," he says, "I'm just going to walk right on by."
Can't Help Myself
Every volunteer's experience with the Katrina evacuees is different. Sometimes it can be a smooth-running process where you're given a job and do it; other times, it's like it was for one Hair Balls correspondent September 14.
He'd volunteered the previous week and things had gone well, except perhaps for the grandmother who was told all the ice cream had already been handed out to Katrina youngsters and shouted, "Those kids don't deserve no ice cream!"
A week later he went back and was told to get ready to help folks move from Reliant Center to Reliant Arena. The evacuees, many of them elderly, were ready on time and waiting with their boxes and wheelchairs. And waiting. And waiting. For two hours, while the volunteers tried frantically to get some information on what was going on.
One volunteer, who came down from Minnesota, says she'll never work for the Red Cross again. The plans change "every 20 minutes," she says, and there's no direction.
"You see that guy over there?" She points. "That's our director. I've been here two weeks, and this is the first time I've seen him on the floor."
Eventually things got settled. But not before one more volunteer bit the dust.
Back to Normal
Even with the occasional foul-ups, Houston has been getting almost nothing but glowing press for the city's reaction to Katrina. And then there was The Atlanta Journal-Constitution, writing September 12 about rebuilding New Orleans.
Homeowners without insurance may simply have to sell their lots to developers, the paper reported, and that may be bad news.
The story continued: " 'This may further the Houstonization of New Orleans and the destruction of its historic fabric,' laments S. Frederick Starr, author of Southern Comfort: The Garden District of New Orleans 'This is the most critical question with regard to the cultural survival of New Orleans. Are you going to incentivize the owners to rebuild, or are you going to tear it all down and build some awful thing?' "
Hey, thanks, S. Frederick. Why be hatin'?
Starr immediately starts backtracking when asked about it. "That is an old term," he says. "I used that term 20 years ago in my book."
And what's it mean? "I think 'Houstonization' is simply mass demolition followed by low-density, green-fields development. It's really talking to the Houston that was being built in the '70s and '80s All those one-story houses that go on forever." It kills any feeling of community, he says.
Okay, okay. So he's got a point. Still, you'd think he could let us enjoy our moment just a little bit longer.
You bring a huge influx of poor, mostly black strangers into town, made desperate by losing everything, and what do you get? Good times at gun shops!